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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/23527684">Behold, a Gentle Man</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Project0506/pseuds/Project0506'>Project0506</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Rex adopts a Jedi [10]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Hurt/Comfort</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-04-07</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-04-07</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-01 15:08:53</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,675</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/23527684</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Project0506/pseuds/Project0506</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>"There are three things all wise men fear: the sea in storm, a night with no moon, and the anger of a gentle man"</p><p>Kix and Cody learn some harsh truths about his general's past.  Kix learns some things about himself.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>CC-2224 | Cody &amp; Anakin Skywalker, CT-6116 | Kix &amp; Anakin Skywalker</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Rex adopts a Jedi [10]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1684942</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>65</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>1062</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Behold, a Gentle Man</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Hello!  This lil ditty came from an anon on Tumblr (my first prompt!) asking for folks finding about Anakin's past as a slave in the Rex Adopts a Jedi verse.  Sorry but after hours of fighting, Rex just did not want to cooperate with me tonight so I let him sleep.  I hope Kix and Cody work for you!</p><p>Mando'a and Huttese translations are included in the end notes, with links to take you back to where you were.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“What.”</p><p> </p><p>Sometimes the General will say things. Little things, casual things. Things that spring little jolts of alarm through Kix. Things like ‘prioritize the granaries over the weapons depot, people will do just about anything for a little food security’ as though he knew that first hand.</p><p> </p><p>The Jedi temple has never experienced a food shortage in General Skywalker’s lifetime. Kix knows. He checked.</p><p> </p><p>Sometimes the General will do things that horrify Kix, like refusing to let him put one terrified twilek under to remove her slave chip. ‘Local anesthesia only,’ he had said, ‘she needs to see it happen’.</p><p> </p><p>(He’d been right. The girl had been so achingly grateful. General Skywalker had been <em>so understanding</em>.)</p><p> </p><p>Sometimes, the General will say something and Kix thinks he might get properly angry.</p><p> </p><p>“It’ll be a pretty fine line,” Skywalker says. Kix has never heard his voice so flat before. “You need to be too Free for traders to fuck with you, but still slave enough for your contact to trust you.”</p><p> </p><p>General Vos ruffles his locks. “Yeah, my thought too. Can pull off column A well enough, but figured I’d need to consult our resident expert for column B.” He shrugs with a motion that seems to run all the way down both arms. “So please Master Skywalker, teach me how to be you.”</p><p> </p><p>No one, it seems, is very interested in answering Kix’s question.</p><p> </p><p>“<em>Someone</em>,” Kix says with forced calm. “Needs to give me an answer.” General Skywalker glances at him and away again, but does not acknowledge.</p><p> </p><p>When Kenobi had come in to the ready room he’d taken a corner, back to the wall, arms crossed. He’s not said a word. His face is stone, his eyes have not left Vos once. Kix had never seen him furious before. Cody holds his left, equally unmoving. There will be no answers from that quarter either.</p><p> </p><p>“You’re a Freed Man,” General Skywalker says. His voice does not once stray from that bitingly cold, achingly empty tone. He paces a circuit around Vos, considering. Both his hands are still by his sides; Kix has never known him to be anything like still. “Self-made. You broke your own chains and you’ll be bleached bone before you let ‘em put them back on you. You’re worth what, fourteen, fifteen thousand Drugats?”</p><p> </p><p>“Got a quote for 9.5.”</p><p> </p><p>Skywalker scoffs. He steps up into Vos’ space, eyes him from hair to boots. Assessing. His eyes linger on the curve of Vos’ mouth, his bend of his neck, the corded muscles of his arms, the breadth of his chest. He scoffs again. “Sleemo<a href="#mandoadefinition" id="mandoadefinitionback" name="mandoadefinitionback"><sup>1</sup></a> was tryin’ to cheat ya. Fifteen easy.”</p><p> </p><p>There’s a tilt to his words, a softening of sharp sounds and lengthening of vowels. It becomes more noticeable with every word he says.</p><p> </p><p>“Knowin’ how much you rate is half the fight. Gotta make sure every stupa<a href="#mandoadefinition2" id="mandoadefinitionback2" name="mandoadefinitionback2"><sup>2</sup></a> who claps sights on ya knows: you’ll fetch fifteen, but you gonna cost em eighty five, plus whatever they got for teeth.” He steps back, indicates Vos’ jacket with a jut of his chin. “This what you wearin’?”</p><p> </p><p>Skywalker prods and positions. In every motion Kix can see Vos’s story unfurl. It’s gorgeous in its precision. Kix feels sick.</p><p> </p><p>Hands tilt Vos’ hips so, curl shoulders so. Stand like this, walk like this, talk like this. Slip like this, slump like this, accent curls here when you’re tired: these are the mistakes they need to see. Slice the jacket lining seam at the armhole, it ain’t new and you’re gonna fix that when next you got time. Change the boots, those <em>are </em>new and quality, you’re not scared to treat yourself. Old blaster, worn-in grip, new mag, you don’t take stupid chances. Fit pants, lose shirt, this is what they can’t have.</p><p> </p><p>Sit like this, spread like this, this space you <em>own</em>.</p><p> </p><p>Kix’s general presses fingers under Vos’ ear, tilts his head just so and the lazy sprawl of limbs transform into violence barely restrained. Why is this something his general knows? Why isn’t Kenobi stopping this? Can’t he see the strips Kix’s general is tearing out of himself with every word?</p><p> </p><p>Somewhere between breaths Skywalker transformed as well. He steps around and away, and he has anger in every step, contempt on his face. He smiles, and it’s derisive. He eyes his handiwork, and it’s a cruel sort of possessive. Somehow, for some reason, Vos made him become this.</p><p> </p><p>“Eh schutta<a href="#mandoadefinition3" id="mandoadefinitionback3" name="mandoadefinitionback3"><sup>3</sup></a>, you’ll do.” There’s a beat, a silent expectant moment. Skywalker and Vos’ sights hold.</p><p> </p><p>Kix is moving as Vos slides to his feet.</p><p> </p><p>Vos is a portent of violence, a threat of <em>teeth </em>that Kix <em>knows</em> is a persona, a character, nothing more than affectation. Kix knows, somewhere far away where logic still functions, that this is nothing more than a rehearsal.  That Vos is responding to the General’s cue, exactly the way he’s just been shown to do.</p><p> </p><p>In the here and now, the only thing Kix knows is <em>what else can’t he protect his general from?</em></p><p> </p><p>“There’s nothing quite like some juicy misplaced aggression,” Vos murmurs, careful, so careful, not to jostle the holdout blaster Kix has wedged up under his throat, “to spice up a meet-cute. Think you can actually take me with that little thing?”</p><p> </p><p>He knows, Kix is sure, that a shot like this isn’t survivable. Not even for a Jedi. Even if it was, the mag has five follow ups. And these days Kix’s back holster always has spare power cells.</p><p> </p><p>“-down. <em>Lieutenant</em>. You need to stand <em>down</em>.”</p><p> </p><p>There’s a hand on his wrist, bone-bendingly tight. His index and middle fingers are crushed along the smooth side of the barrel, safely away from the trigger.</p><p> </p><p>Vos laughs. “Don’t get your leggings all bunched up.” His eyes are glued to Kix’s. There’s a vicious humor in them, something deep and sharp. He ignores both Kenobi’s shout of ‘Vos, enough!’ and the commander’s urgent ‘sir I need you to step away-’.</p><p> </p><p>“Your attack-akk’s just doing what he’s been programmed to.” His smile twists to something just a little mean, and he pats Kix’s left shoulder. “Good boy.”</p><p> </p><p>There’s a scalpel that sits up the left sleeve of Kix’s grays, holstered snugly against his pulse. He’s never needed it before, but every day his duty has him out of his shell he straps it down under the dress uniform.</p><p> </p><p>A worn, silver button tumbles to the ground, sliced loose from the cuff of Vos’ former-slave-jacket.</p><p> </p><p>That could have been your radial artery, Kix thinks evenly. The grip on his shoulder spasms, tight, and disappears. It’s Vos that backs away first. Puts a step, another, a third, puts distance between himself and Kix’s general. Kix eyes don’t leave him, not til General Kenobi grips the other Jedi’s arm and pulls him from the room. Kix doesn’t move.</p><p> </p><p>“I know, vod, <em>I know.”</em> Kix can see Commander Cody’s eyes through his visor, his face a vision of helpless fury. Funny, Kix’s own reflection is perfectly calm. “But I need you to stand down. I need you to take your thumb off the grip. I need you to take two steps back. There aren’t any threats here. Do you understand me? Lieutenant I need you to give me a verbal response. Answer.”</p><p> </p><p>“Yes sir.”</p><p> </p><p>“Take your thumb off the grip.” Kix obeys. He’s been conditioned for years to react to that tone. The commander rips the blaster out of what’s left of his hold. In a second the power cell hits the deck between their feet and the blaster disappears somewhere Kix couldn’t follow. Kix can feel durasteel-against-durasteel clang of the barrel hitting the floor rattling the back of his teeth. “Two steps back.” Kix complies. The crushing grip switches arms, professional fingers find the straps of his blade’s holster and rips it away. “Face the wall.” Both the spare cells at the small of his back go. “Are you otherwise armed?”</p><p> </p><p>“No sir.”</p><p> </p><p>The commander frisks him anyway, shoulder to ankle down his back, and again in front. Kix isn’t carrying anything else.</p><p> </p><p>“Kix.” Skywalker is still here. Somewhere too far. “Kix you’re overreacting, I’m <em>fine</em>.”</p><p> </p><p>“With respect sir,” the Commander barks. “Please shut up a second.” Then, softer, “can I please only deal with one crisis at a time?”</p><p> </p><p>Kix doesn’t have to see him to feel Skywalker’s hurt and confusion. Shouldn’t the Jedi be the Commander’s priority?</p><p> </p><p>“Sir,” Kix calls. He doesn’t know which one of them he means. It doesn’t matter, it’s Skywalker pushing into his space, uncaring or not hearing the Commander try to hold him back. Kix could have told him it wouldn’t work. His general is built tall to Kix and his brothers solid build, but he’s unstoppable as the tide of their home world.</p><p> </p><p>“I’m here Kix, you’re okay.” Kix laughs. The very sound is ugly.</p><p> </p><p>He gets his hold on his general and it’s easy as breathing to spin them. Solid durasteel walls pressed at his general’s back, Kix himself at his front, between him and the door, between him and everything.</p><p> </p><p>This is the first time Kix has touched their foreheads together. He’s filled with deep, bitter shame about that. He grips his general’s neck with both, shaking hands.</p><p> </p><p>“<em>I’m</em> okay,” his general says. It’s a lie. Kix watched him nearly choke himself and Kix both with the disgust he’d felt. “It was a long time ago.”</p><p> </p><p>Not long enough to forget about worrying about food. Not long enough to forget how badly he’d needed to watch his chip taken out to believe it. Not long enough to forget the need to tell anyone who sees him that he’ll never be a slave again.</p><p> </p><p>Not long enough by far.</p><p> </p><p>“That’s a karking lie sir, and everyone in this room knows it.” Kix is glad he doesn’t have to be the one to say it. The commander steps into Kix’s peripheral vision.</p><p> </p><p>He’s removed his own weapons, at least the obvious ones. Protocol; make sure Kix won’t re-arm himself by disarming him. It’s a good feeling, to know that <em>someone</em> here has both feet planted. Kix isn’t sure he’ll ever find his stance again. It’s a long, long minute before he can bring himself to step back, let his general up.</p><p> </p><p>It can’t have been comfortable; the general is a half-a-head taller than the vode, but he doesn’t complain.</p><p> </p><p>Even then, Skywalker doesn’t go far. Near enough that Kix can feel his body heat, can reach out and grab hold of his elbow. He seems to know that Kix needs to make up for the year he spent prioritizing decorum over connection.</p><p> </p><p>Why is it that Kix is the one that needs comforting?</p><p> </p><p>“You were a slave,” the commander says, ripping open the wound all at once.</p><p> </p><p>“I <em>am</em> a person,” the general snaps. “I don’t want to be defined by that.”</p><p> </p><p>Cody breathes slowly, but nods, conceding the point. “Is that why you didn’t tell us?”</p><p> </p><p>Skywalker has an answer, it’s impossible to hide anything from Kix when they’re this close, but he stops instead. Goes through the words to make sure that they’re what he wants to say.</p><p> </p><p>Impulsive, people had said before Torrent had even ever had their Jedi. Do they see what he’s become?</p><p> </p><p>“I’m not ashamed of it,” he finally says. “I understand that it was a violation, that it was done to me and I have nothing to be ashamed of.” He sounds like he’s quoting. “And that’s just it. It was something <em>done to me</em>. It’s not who I am, it’s not even who I was.” He shrugs. It jostles Kix’s hold on is elbow. Kix grips tighter. “It’s something awful that happened and I don’t like to think about it.” He twists his arm, pulls Kix’s hold lower until it sits above his thrumming pulse. He’s perceptive; the steady thrum calms Kix considerably.</p><p> </p><p>“You know we wouldn’t have thought any differently of you sir?” Kix asks. “None of us would.”</p><p> </p><p>Skywalker turns a pitying look on him, and looks pointedly down to where Kix’s hand meets his wrist. It’s the most Kix has ever touched him outside of official medical duties. The shame grows cloying.</p><p> </p><p>“I think folks can’t help themselves,” the general says gently. “I do think you wouldn’t <em>want</em> to treat me any differently, though, if that helps.”</p><p> </p><p>It doesn’t.</p><p> </p><p>The commander shifts, draws both their attentions to him. “I’m going to apologize in advance. I understand that this might be insulting, but I need to ask. Is it different in your head, belonging to a slave owner versus belonging to the Vode<a href="#mandoadefinition4" id="mandoadefinitionback4" name="mandoadefinitionback4"><sup>4</sup></a>? Belonging to Torrent?”</p><p> </p><p>Kix goes cold.</p><p> </p><p>The general had accepted it so easily hadn’t he? Kix has seen how other companies, how other Jedi work. It’s unusual, for a company to fold their Jedi so deep into their ranks. Ghost and Wolfpack might be the only other ones. Torrent had told their general he was theirs, and he hadn’t objected had he? Did he know he could?</p><p> </p><p>“No!” Skywalker bursts out. “That’s not… I mean. Yes! It’s completely different. I promise.” He throws a hand out to each of them, flesh hand catching Kix and mechanical locking around Cody’s bracer. They tumble into each other. “Believe me I’m fully aware that you aren’t… I have never once thought that. About you. About any of you. You’re <em>vode</em>. I always knew that, even if I didn’t know what that meant.” He meets their eyes in turn. “Torrent is <em>mine</em>, just as much as I’m yours. And Cody.” He breathes roughly. “I don’t know what you are. I don’t understand it, what you are to Rex, what that makes you to me. But I know that I <em>want it</em> more than a Jedi should want anything I think.”</p><p> </p><p>Slowly, the commander nods. He’s not satisfied and it shows. His face is still troubled and deeply lined. Kix has some inkling of what the commander is quietly building among the vode, has heard rumors in ways that you can’t point to any one place as the source. He knows that it means nothing if there isn’t a choice.</p><p> </p><p>“I outrank you,” Skywalker says. He sees the same thing in the commander’s face. “Remember that. I’m a free man and I outrank you and I outrank Rex. So when I follow your orders, it’s because I choose to.” He raises an eyebrow. Kenobi’s influence on him has never been more apparent. “Trust me Cody, when I don’t want to do something you’ll <em>know</em>.”</p><p> </p><p>That at last makes the commander smile.</p><p> </p><p>“I got that impression, yes.”</p><p> </p><p>“Not to suggest correlation, commander” Kix offers in only a shade of his typical dryness, desperate to drag himself back to equilibrium. “But you should know that two thirds of Torrent’s officer corps have gone bald.”</p><p> </p><p>General Skywalker stares at him, wordless, for a second. “You. You <em>asshole,”</em>he murmurs.</p><p> </p><p>Commander Cody is smiling at him. It’s more in the eyes than anything else. Kix can see Captain Rex so clearly in him. “You have him, vod<a href="#mandoadefinition5" id="mandoadefinitionback5" name="mandoadefinitionback5"><sup>5</sup></a>?” the commander asks. He means more than right now, more than this moment that pushed past the shell Kix wears whether or not he’s in beskar’gam<a href="#mandoadefinition6" id="mandoadefinitionback6" name="mandoadefinitionback6"><sup>6</sup></a>. He’s asking if this is something Kix is willing to maintain.</p><p> </p><p>Kix presses a fist to the back of his general’s shoulder. He’s no fool.</p><p> </p><p>“Yes alor<a href="#mandoadefinition7" id="mandoadefinitionback7" name="mandoadefinitionback7"><sup>7</sup></a>.”</p><p> </p><p>The commander’s smile goes small, private, pleased. “Not yet,” he chides without heat. “You’ll know when.”</p><p> </p><p>This isn’t the end, Kix knows. They’ll still need to tell Rex and that will be another hurt. Jesse will somehow know before the end of the ten-day. Kix will tell Rex, Rex can manage Jesse. They can keep this from tearing at their general any more than it already has.</p><p> </p><p>Skywalker hesitantly presses his shoulder to Kix’s. Kix doesn’t hesitate to reach back.</p><p> </p><p>Skywalker is Torrent’s and Torrent is just as much Kix’s as it is Rex’s. It’s about time Kix started acting like it.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p><a id="mandoadefinition" name="mandoadefinition"></a>1. Huttese: Jerk, asshole. <a href="#mandoadefinitionback">Back</a><br/><a id="mandoadefinition2" name="mandoadefinition2"></a>2. Huttese: Idiot. <a href="#mandoadefinitionback2">Back</a><br/><a id="mandoadefinition3" name="mandoadefinition3"></a>3. Huttese: Yeah, Bitch/similar (expletive, derogatory) <a href="#mandoadefinitionback3">Back</a><br/><a id="mandoadefinition4" name="mandoadefinition4"></a>4. Mando'a: Brothers, Brotherhood. <a href="#mandoadefinitionback4">Back</a><br/><a id="mandoadefinition5" name="mandoadefinition5"></a>5. Brother. <a href="#mandoadefinitionback5">Back</a><br/><a id="mandoadefinition6" name="mandoadefinition6"></a>6. Armor. <a href="#mandoadefinitionback6">Back</a><br/><a id="mandoadefinition7" name="mandoadefinition7"></a>7. Leader, chief.  In this context 'head of a clan'. <a href="#mandoadefinitionback7">Back</a><br/></p></blockquote></div></div>
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